The Brothers I Never Had
by Helenerrr
Summary: Troubled teenager Beth seeks the help of a local detective to find her lost brother. However she underestimates just how far she must go into her difficult past to discover the truth...
1. Chapter 1

**Sherlock FanFic**

_This is it_, I thought as I stared up at the shiny black door with its gold painted number plates and old fashioned knocker, both freshly cleaned by the English drizzle that falls consistently and soaks instantly. I was similarly rain-washed; my usually curly, loud, dyed-red hair was almost completely plastered to my head and shoulders as rain ran down my check, jumping of my chin and onto my thin hoodie, making me shiver.

I rubbed my hands together, half trying to rid them of cold and half in anticipation. I'd been waiting for this moment ever since I'd learnt of his existence two years ago. However, when I grasped the knocker I was hit by a sudden wave of doubt; after dreaming about this moment for so long, what if it wasn't all I expected it to be?

What if he didn't believe me, or kicked me out because I looked like some homeless kid seeking refuge? How humiliating would that be?

Another violent shiver wracked my bean-pole frame, deciding for me if I should knock or not. The noise of metal hitting wood echoed loudly around inside and I resisted the urge to turn tail and run.

Heart hammering and ears straining, I waited for the tell-tail footsteps of someone coming to open the door.

I didn't have to wait long.

The quick clip-clop of small heels told me it wasn't the person I wanted who was coming to let me in, but his landlady. She opened the door hesitantly at first, as if unsure as to who would be knocking this late, but flung it wide when she saw it was only me; thoroughly soaked and shaking like a blade of grass in a gale.

"Oh my goodness you must be freezing!" she exclaimed, kind eyes widening with disbelief. "Quick, come in before you catch your death of cold! Here, let me take your jumper dear. My goodness, it's wet through!"

She continued to fret as she took my hoodie and hung it on a heater to dry. As I wiped my feet on the welcome mat she locked the door and I stepped into the plain but homely hall.

I looked up the wooden stairs that led to another door, hearing multiple feet hitting the floor and what sounded like tribal music. Both noises were partially muffled by carpeting.

"Don't be alarmed by any strange sounds, dear. Sherlock's working on a case up there." Mrs Hudson explained apologetically.

I smiled for the first time in two years. "I'm used to it." I said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"So how does a young girl like you come to be outside 221B Baker's Street at half past eleven this miserable night?" Mrs Hudson asked, pushing more homemade biscuits my way.

I sipped my hot chocolate, scalding my tongue in the process, but also chasing away the worst of the chill. Putting the mug down and pulling my borrowed, floral towel closer I shrugged.

"I'd heard of an―" I grinned, "amateur detective that the police had been consulting for several major cases and was told he lives here. I was hoping that he could help me find someone." I explained, reaching for a biscuit. Crunching down I 'mmm'ed appreciatively; it was delicious.

"Who is this person, if you don't mind me asking?" implored Mrs Hudson, sipping her own mug of what smelt like coffee.

"I don't mind you asking at all," I said, wiping crumbs off my still saturated jeans. "I'm hoping Sherlock Holmes can help me find the younger of my two older brothers." I stated, finishing off my snack and reaching for my mum. I had just filled my mouth with warm chocolate when I noticed it had gone quiet upstairs.

"Mrs Hudson, would you be so kind as to show Prince Azihd out? Thank you."

My hot chocolate splattered everywhere as I spat it out in surprise. I leapt out of my chair and jumped back as it clattered to the floor.

"Oh Sherlock, look what you've done!" scolded Mrs Hudson, "Really, sneaking up on us like that."

I placed my hand over my heart in an attempt to slow the frantic beating and tried not to hyperventilate as I looked at the man who nearly gave me a heart attack.

Sherlock Holmes was tall with the same curly hair as me; however, his was midnight black. He had piercing blue eyes and cheekbones that jutted out of his pale skin, and was wearing a black button shirt with what seemed to be some sort of sarong.

He looked ridiculous.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

There was a moment of awkward silence before I burst into fits of hysterical laughter. I caught a glimpse of Sherlock's expression before I had to double over to gain oxygen; he looked confused and partly injured as he adjusted his sarong self-consciously.

"And who might you be?" Sherlock asked once my laughter had died down to a quiet chuckle. I wiped my eyes and still grinning, answered.

"Ha-ha, sorry it's just you don't really ― you don't look how I expected you too." I dissolved into more uncontrollable giggling while Mrs Hudson led a regal looking man to the door.

"Ahem, I'm so sorry," I managed to splutter. "My name's is Rosabeth, but I prefer Beth." I held out my hand and after a brief pause he shook it.

"I take you already know who I am." Sherlock replied whilst looking me up and down.

Then it was my turn to shuffle uncomfortably. "Yes, I've heard of you, but it is an honour to finally meet you in person."

"An honour? Well that's a first. Usually people describe finally meeting me as more of a hindrance."

I shook my head vigorously, splattering everything within a ten centimetre radius with water from my hair. "I've been looking forward to this moment for quite a while." I assured him.

"I know. About two years by the look of you; long hair that hasn't been cut for some time; thin body from malnutrition rather than the vanity expected of a teenager; tense stance that is unconscious given by the fact you immediately loosened, and the way you stand with your back to the wall and face the exit suggests you are uneasy about being outnumbered. Not your typical teenager all-in-all." He concluded.

I tried to look nonchalant by failed spectacularly. "Wow that was … really something." I admitted nervously, letting my hair flop down to cover my face as I stared at my bare feet.

If he saw all that at first glance, I needed to distract him before he could deduce anything else about me. Luckily I didn't have to do the distracting.

"Sherlock, what do you want me to do with this chicken?" a male voice called from upstairs.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and beckoned for me to follow him, calling back: "Stick it in the fridge; we can have it for dinner."

"I am not eating this!" the voice cried in indignation.

I smiled as we reached the top of the stairs and walked into the cluttered apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It was fascinating to see how Sherlock lived. Every object portrayed the mad genius inside him, from the human skull to the sleek violin on the windowsill. I trailed my long fingers across a leather chair as we walking into the dining area/kitchen.

"There are feathers clogging up the sink, Sherlock! If you think I'm cleaning this up you can – oh!" The man whose voice we'd heard stopped abruptly as he noticed me standing behind Sherlock.

The middle-aged man walked over to me and held out his hand in the typical greeting of strangers and I smiled as we exchanged pleasantries. He was a rather short, kind-faced man who had an air of authority about him. His posture was excellent and I could tell from the way he carried himself that he was an ex-military type.

"John Watson." He declared.

"Rosabeth," I replied, "But just Beth is fine."

"I hate to break up this meet-and-greet but I'm thirsty for a new mystery," said Sherlock, not actually sounding sorry at all.

"But you just solved one!" John cried, "Surely you can see she needs to rest, not quench your thirst for drama."

"Thank you for your concern," I put in before they could start arguing, "but I am well enough to tell a quick story."

Sherlock huffed and whipped off his sarong, revealing the black slacks he was wearing underneath. He then started to pace. John rolled his eyes and indicated that I should take a seat, so I sat at the long wooden table and suddenly wished I was somewhere else. I cleared my throat and launched into my tale.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Bangs, gunshots and screams rang throughout the boarding school. Teachers and students clogged the empty halls, adults failing to organise the children into neat lines in preparation for evacuation. A young girl clutched her stuffed dog as if it was a talisman. Her apple-green eyes were as round as dinner plates but she wasn't crying like the others, she stood in the doorway of her room and watched the chaos unfold with an intelligence not usually seen in the face of a five-year-old._

_ Suddenly the screams were closer and adults and children alike began to run full pelt for the emergency exits. Men in black combat suits marched towards the girl's dormitory, parting the panicked people like royalty. Their semi-automatic handguns were still holstered, but that didn't make them seem any less threatening. Spotting the girl in the doorway, the frontman shouted a command and the party halted._

_ "Are you Rosabeth?" asked the frontman, kneeling to be on her eyelevel. She appraised him curiously before replying._

_ "I am. I assume you wish me to come with you quietly?" Rosabeth responded eloquently, much to the surprise of the seemingly uninformed agent._

_ "Um, I - I guess I do," stuttered the man._

_ "You guess? That isn't very reassuring. One would hope you would be sure of your purpose for coming here and scaring these people witless."_

_ The rebuked commander opened his mouth then thought better and closed it again. He indicated to two of his men then stood back as Rosabeth was blindfolded and hoisted onto one of the men's broad back._


End file.
